


Hot frames and lukewarm sparks

by Lust_Demon



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 18:31:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9397682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lust_Demon/pseuds/Lust_Demon
Summary: An unexpected heat cycle hits the Lost Light's resident therapist and he's left trying to find someone to help him or simply sit through a week of torment.  It just doesn't seem like anyone's as interested as he is.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really not a huge fan of those fuck or die tropes. Partially because of the non and dub con that almost inevitably follows, and partially because it's really not how mating cycles work. But every once in a while you get hit with the urge to write for one of the age old tropes, so here we are with Rung being in heat.

There were times in his youth that he could time it down the time of day when his heat would start up. His body was reliable that way, he knew himself and he generally had enough time to either order suppressants or find enough toys and bottles of lube to keep himself busy and honestly delighted for the duration of his heat. He enjoyed his body and felt no shame in taking the necessary time off from his work to take care of the heat himself. And after all, he didn't take personal days and didn't get viruses so he deserved some time to himself. 

When the Functionists grabbed him and tortured him, however, it threw him out of synch. They did things to his body, pulled him apart and put him together again so that he couldn't trust it for a good while. And then with the upheaval and issues with Froid and so much else, he almost didn't notice at first. But then he looked at the calendar one cycle and saw that just too much time had passed.  

Even with the trauma he'd experienced, he should have had a soft reset and a minor heat by the time the war stopped, but there was nothing. He was ready for it with suppressants for the longest time, making sure to be responsible and keep the drugs up to date and speak with his chief medical officer about the matter. But he didn't come into heat, and he noticed that while he felt certain romantic longings, he didn't have sexual urges anymore. Experimentation with his frame proved to him that he couldn't even lubricate or make his spike stand up despite how much 'encouragement’ he gave it. At first he had been bitter and even a little resentful, but with time he'd come to accept it. There was nothing he could do to change it, the medics had told him that much, so he resigned himself to the rest of his life with platonic relationships and the inevitably that any romantic relationship wouldn’t be sexual on his part, or at least not in a way that would make -him- overload. 

Part of the basic physical when he boarded the Lost Light had been a conversation with Ratchet. At first the aged medic had been asking his questions with a disinterested tone, giving the impression that the questions were all run of the mill and he didn't care one way or the other about the habits of the crew. But when Ratchet asked about his last heat and Rung answered truthfully that it had been well over four million years, the medic's engine actually stalled as his helm snapped up to look at Rung.  Rung quietly explained why he thought he didn't have them anymore, a combination of trauma and meddling by the Functionists. To say that Ratchet had been angry was a massive discredit to his emotions. He was enraged in a cold sort of way, his servos shaking like he wanted to wrap them around someone's neck and tear out the main energon lines. Rung simply nodded and continued on to tell Ratchet that he wasn't in need of supplements but he would like to request a massage therapy every two weeks because he did tend to have tension in his joints when he traveled. 

Ratchet frowned at how quickly Rung dismissed it but made the necessary notes in his file, quietly telling the psychiatrist that he should comm him if anything changed. The medic did his best not to notice the bitter smile before Rung looked away, reaching out with his EM field to run soothingly along the smaller bots frame. 

There was so much happening on the Lost Light that Rung barely had time to work on his models. It excited him how incredible the whole affair was, even as it scared the Pit out of him. He spent time with patients and was surprised to find that some were even calling him a friend. After so long with a sensation like a weight pressing down on his spark, on this ship full of wonderful wild bots, he felt like he could fly. Even if no one remembered his name, he felt like he belonged. It was the strangest ship he'd ever been on and he wouldn't have traded it for anything. He had his patients, he had friends and he had his health. 

Although he could have done without the incident where his helm was blown apart. 

He came back to awareness slowly, like he was being pulled up through sludge. His audials let him know he was resting in the med ward and his EM field could sense a heavy frame next to him, young but somber. When his optics onlined, he could see Ambulon was there, reading his chart and checking the latest ping on his health. The former decepticon looked down to him and nodded, ever serious as he adjusted the berth so Rung was in a sitting position. 

“Any distortion in your hearing?  Issues with your vision?” Ambulon spoke softly. 

“Well, I can see better with my glasses.” Rung murmured tiredly, cycling his optics a few times. 

Ambulon seemed a touch sheepish as he turned and found the glasses sitting on a tray next to the berth. Passing them over to Rung, he watched with a critical optic as the older mech’s bright blue optics cycled and then magnified under the glass. 

“No vision issues…” Rung vented softly and brought a hand up to touch his antennae, dialing down his hearing a little since it seemed like all the input was a bit much for him right then. “No hearing distortion.  I assume you want to check my joints.”

“Correct.” Professional to the end, Ambulon waited for Rung to hold out an arm and started there, his fingers light on the therapists plating. 

Rung let his optics dim, his frame moving with the slight touches to assure Ambulon that everything was properly healed. He sat up straighter as Ambulon moved behind him and let the tips of his fingers move in slow circles down Rung's spinal struts. The medics vents were warm as they passed over Rung's neck cables when he spoke, saying something about how he thought Rung should have assistance if he wanted an oil bath.

The mental image of a strong sturdy frame helping him down into a heated pool made Rung smile and he shook his helm. 

“I'm sure I’ll be fine. The oil bath in my hab has seats in it so it's not like I’ll fall.”

The agile hands moved to his hips next and Rung set his hands to the side, gripping the berth as he leaned forward even as thumbs rested over his aft and stroked down steadily. Blinking in surprise, Rung took in a vent, unsure of the soft tingle of electricity building at the base of his spine. 

“Still, you should have someone there even if it's just outside the door. Just for the first few days to make sure everything is settled. Helm surgery is a delicate thing and you can't be too careful.” Ambulon sounded stern but caring. “I'd also feel better if someone walked you to your hab suite.”

“If it will make you feel better, I will comm Skids.” Rung moved off the berth, rubbing his hip as he dismissed the sensation running along his back as a side effect of rebooting after surgery. 

“It will make me feel better. All of us, actually. You've had a lot of mechs worried Rung.”

The lithe therapist turned to look at Ambulon, seeing him leaning over the berth with a small smile. His spark turned quickly and he returned the smile, accepting a polishing cloth so he could give himself a quick buff. He hadn't expected a -lot- of mechs to be worried. Hadn't realized that more than his patients and friends would notice his absence. 

His comms clicked on and he sent a ping to Skids, hoping that he wouldn't be busy. This time he couldn't dismiss the selfish pleasure when the bigger mech picked up immediately and responded with an enthusiasm that Rung missed in his life. 

::So glad you're okay.::

::We have diligent and caring medical staff, of course I'm alright.:: Rung flushed softly, leaning his hip against the berth. 

::Still, I'm glad. Do you need anything?:: 

Even though it was text, Rung felt like there was an eagerness in Skids question and he ran a hand down his side, that tingle running up his spine once more, spreading warmth along his back. 

::A walk back to my suite?  I'm afraid Ambulon is being rather insistent.::

::I’ll be right there, Ambulon can rest easy.::

Rung laughed softly, using the polish cloth across his collar faring. He wasn't imagining the eagerness there then. Looking down at himself, he leaned against the berth and carefully continued to buff himself, his spark jumping happily at the thought of Skids being the first to see him. Besides the medical staff of course. There was something incredible about Skids. How he always had this open smile for Rung and how engaging he was in conversation, not content to let Rung lead but to push ideas around himself. His matte plating always kept clean and an EM field that was welcoming to the point that Rung felt magnetically drawn towards him. 

Rung paused, his fingers feeling slightly limp as he considered how his thoughts were going. He'd always appreciated Skids of course. More than once he'd caught himself watching the tall mech and wishing he could work up the nerve to ask him if he wanted to spend a quiet evening alone together. Looking down at himself, he flushed when he realized that he had worked the cloth over his chassis until it gleamed, drawing attention to his spark plate. Forcing a laugh, he put down the cloth and stepped away from the berth, touching his hips as he started to check himself over. 

“Hey Rung, you ready to get out of here?”

The cheerful voice made his helm snap up and he felt a sharp pull in his tanks, his pedes taking wobbly steps towards Skids until the bigger mech swooped in and easily picked him up. Skids was saying -something- but there was a rush of energon pounding through Rung’s processor and he could only focus on those handsome lips as they formed his name, shifting in a smile that screamed he had a secret. Warm hands pulling him in close and making Rung dizzy enough that he had to put his own hands on Skids chassis to steady himself. And then another swell of overpowering heat surging from the base of his spinal struts to curve along his aft and practically seared his privacy plating. 

“Didn't think you'd swoon over me, doc.”

“Berth.” Rung murmured, keeping his vocals hushed. “I need to go to my hab suite, please.”

“Rung?”

Those saucy lips were moving from that alluring, hunger inducing smile to a frown and Rung closed his optics to shut off the desire to kiss him until that concern was gone and replaced with something sweeter. 

“Please, can you bring me to my hab suite?  I'd really like to recharge in my own berth.” Rung’s fingers curled against Skids chassis and he practically bit his glossa so he wouldn't admit that he wanted to get back to find the small box of toys he had never had the spark to get rid of. 

“You're sure…?  You're running a little hot.”

“Ambulon just dismissed me.” Rung forced a laugh and looked up at Skids, giving in and spreading his fingers so he could have just a brief rub of the slightly scarred armor, taking a physical memory to go with the visual he already had, wishing he could trace that spot with his glossa. “Go ahead and ask his permission though, if it will make you feel better.”

Skids looked up at where Ambulon was changing the sheet on the med berth, his arms curling tightly around Rung. There was a soft rumble from deep in his chassis and the worried expression slowly darkened. One of his servos had been resting on Rung’s thigh and it moved up to cup his aft, gripping it as he held Rung close to him. Rung squeezed his optics shut and rested his head on Skids shoulder, waiting for his friend to speak up. He shuddered as that dark rumbling continued and strong fingers kneaded his aft, making him choke on a moan. 

“Skids.” He wasn't whimpering the others name. He wasn't. 

Ambulon looked up from where he was fixing the berth and let his gaze shift over Rung’s slight frame.  He had felt the warmth building on the therapist’s frame when he was checking him over and he could guess what was going on even without Skids baring his dentae at him like he was a threat of some sort.  Holding up a hand, he shook his helm.  He had enough drama to deal with without worrying about a heat crazed would-be mate going for his throat.

“Rung can go back to his hab suite if that’s where he wants to go.” Ambulon confirmed, keeping the berth between him and the pair.  “Rung, if there’s anything you need…?”

“I have your comm line.  I may have to have some assistance later, but I’m sure I’ll be fine for now.” Rung nodded without looking up from where he had pressed his face against Skid’s neck cables, practically shaking as he resisted the urge to set his lips and tongue to them.  Perhaps because his heat had been deactive for so long it was more difficult than he remembered to keep himself under control.  But he was still able to withhold somewhat, and as long as he could do that until he got back to his hab suite, he would be fine.

“Good.” Skids fingers dipped lower, rubbing Rung’s undercarriage briefly and making him buck his hips into the contact.

“Not here.” Rung gripped the taller mech’s shoulders, looking up at him in embarrassment.

He heard a soft whine from Skids and smiled against the other’s shoulder, shuddering as the strong hand resumed it’s grip on his aft.  It was still a little risque for public places, but he couldn’t find it in himself to ask Skids to move it anywhere else.  Cradled in the tall mech’s arms, he let his plating flare out so he could try to dispel some of the heat that was gathering inside him.  His cooling fans kicked on and he was idly aware of Skids own coming on as well.  Taking steady vents, he glanced ahead of them, his spark pounding when Skids pulled him closer any time someone got too close for his liking.  It had him humming in pleasure that Skids would display his attentions so blatantly and there was a faint quiver in his thighs as they got closer to his hab suite.  

Once they reached his room, he lightly pat Skid’s chassis to get him to set him down and he leaned back against him, his legs still unsteady under him.  It took two tries to get his passcode into the scanner and he moved into his hab suite, Skids starting to follow him with a clear hunger in his expression.  Lightly, the therapist pushed against Skids chassis to have him move back out to the hallway, shaking his head.

“You need to clear your helm.” Rung regretted the words even though he knew he had to say them.  

“No--” Skids let out a soft whine and started to reach for Rung, his optics running along the smaller mech’s frame in a way he had never done before.

“Yes.  Just… go take a walk.  Make sure you want to be here and then comm me.  I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” Rung gently pushed at his chassis again, making Skids take another step back.  “I’ll be here thinking of you, just humor me a little, please Skids?”

“I’ll come back.” Skids bounced on the tips of his pedes, smiling down at Rung like he could already taste the kisses that would pass between them.

“I’m sure you will.” Rung nodded, not wanting to say out loud that he had heard that before.

When Skids finally turned to walk away, Rung shut and locked the door, sliding down to the floor and letting his panel open.  Without the privacy plating in the way, he sighed with relief as the puffy lips of his valve finally stopped being pressed in on.  He whimpered softly and spread his legs, hoping that Skids really would call, but knowing enough about his friend that he would have to dig out the box of toys he had hidden away.


End file.
